


She Brings Misfortune

by jyrasaurus



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop, 소녀시대 | Girls' Generation | SNSD
Genre: Also a little shit, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, I dont really know, I guess???, Krissica, Non-Idol AU, Self-Indulgent, jessica is the adult one, kris is a rich kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyrasaurus/pseuds/jyrasaurus
Summary: "Jess," he uttered a greeting. "That's my favourite shirt, you know.""I know." She brings misfortune, he decided.Though he braced himself for the silence that followed, it was as stifling as the air; she always had a way of coaxing discomfort without words. He lasted as long as five seconds in this round, "You look like you just got mauled."





	She Brings Misfortune

Kris couldn't remember if it was good or bad luck when a black cat crosses your path. But, with great disdain, he stood at the side of the road, watched and waited until  _ she _ crossed his.

The hotel front bathed in the sun, its glass doors, framed with glaring gold, glinted with every blink. An ostentatious two steps of red carpet settled in front, bright and ruddy on the pale grey pavement. Two potted plants, proud and neatly trimmed, stood on each side with as much inviting warmth as cobras with flared hoods. Light passed the windows and every figure inside were silhouetted like dark puppets behind a white canvas. His only focus was on one, strolling in circles purposefully.

Across the street, he leaned against the naked walls, a plain, undecorated building that contrasted what it overlooks. It was tall enough, though, to shade him from the heat and the ominous lighting repelled any lingering attention towards him. Still and stiff, he mimicked the air, eyes trained on the doors as it opened and, at last, she stepped out. 

The light danced on her hair, a shine like glazed cinnamon. She wore it down today - a blow to her professionalism, but, even more so, was the white shirt she tried to hide under a crisp, black blazer. It was long enough to cover her bare legs, though he knew this was not willingly. There was a rip in the hem, neat enough that it looked, deliberately, a design but, big enough that it could not be salvaged.

One designer shoe, in front of the other sauntered past the pretentious welcome mat, past the cobras and slowed nearing the side of the tarmac. Designer sunglasses looks left, looks right, left again, waiting for cars to stop before proceeding the catwalk, the click and clack of her heels getting louder distinct amidst roaring engines for an audience.

With the exception of the flash of white, she dressed in black. He attempted to remember, once more, what luck a black cat brought along with it.

Finally allowing himself to look away, he closed his eyes once, before settling them on the ground, the tip of his scuffed shoes greeting him. His ears took over the job, waiting the next three seconds for the last firm stomp, placing herself a tolerable distance next to him.

"Jess," he uttered a greeting. "That's my favourite shirt, you know."

"I know." She brings misfortune, he decided.

Though he braced himself for the silence that followed, it was as stifling as the air; she always had a way of coaxing discomfort without words. He lasted as long as five seconds in this round, "You look like you just got mauled."

"Trashy chic," she corrected. He hears shuffling beside him, another pair of pointed shoes appearing in his view. "I got robbed, too.  _ Somebody  _ stole my clothes."

**_Misfortune came with a headache, surfacing like the tides - in and out._ **

He takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly, as if all the breath in his lungs carried the stress in his life, "They weren't stolen, I put them in the wash."

"And how - pray tell - do you propose I dry that within an hour? You know I was going to get called in this morning for the mess  _you_ made." Her tone was ice, unmelting, even in the heat. She brought up a finger beneath his chin, lifting it up to face her. "Where did you go?"

**_Misfortune came with delusions; visions slowed, filtered like a film only he could see._ **

"Out."

"No shit, you were out," she hissed, her hands clenching into fist and her face a near-grimace. The sight shattered the glass bubble in him, a chuckle pushing past his lips.

**_Misfortune came with a warmth that spread an itch under his skin._ **

"Relax," he raised his hands in a sign of neutrality, placing them on her shoulders and rubbing in circles over the fabric of her jacket. "I went out to buy breakfast, they're in the car."

**_Misfortune came. He wouldn't wish it on anyone._ **

He couldn't see behind the shades, but, he'd memorised her eyes, one too many times before to know that she gazed at him with irritable scepticism, "Is it greasy?"

"As greasy as your skin in high school," he beamed and accepted the slap in his arm before extending it, wrapping around her waist to steer her in the direction of the car. "Were they mad that we left early last night?"

She leaned on him as they made short steps, relaxing in his hold and rubbing her temples, "No, but, they made sure to clarify their disappointment at the broken chandelier, the ice sculpture puddle and the  _ ants _ that camped at the reception."

"Half of those were not our fault," he fished his pockets for the keys, pressing it once between his fingers. By the sound of the locks popping up, he shot her a questioning glance and waited for a nod before leaving her to rest her weight on the lamppost beside them. Four long strides took him to his side of the car and he wiggled in, stretching to reach, jam and wriggle the door handle of the other. 

"I’m not your nanny, Kris. The hotel should be your responsibility," she slid in as soon as it opens, laying her head back on the sturdy seat and winced with the slam of the door, "Not that anybody would guess - with this hideous car you're driving."

"Trashy chic," he whipped back, "and, I'm not the owner, yet."

He starts up the car, the first attempt with a wheeze. The next, a cough. The third time was a charm, setting them on the road and joining traffic.

"Whatever," she reached for the drink in the cup holder and searched for the straw, "when you're done acting like a Hollywood pop star close to crashing and finally, accept your responsibilities, I'm in charge of the place- did you forget to get straws, again?"

"They're in there," he mumbled, his attention on the road, "look behind the apple pies."

"Found them!" Her hand waved victoriously in the corner of his eye, clutching the said straw, "I love hangover food, but, let's please never drink again."

His face contorted in disagreement, "Why not? It wasn't so bad last night."

 

**_Misfortune came._ ** It made your palms sweaty, your heart race a little faster. It made you smile wide until your cheeks hurt, your thoughts jumbled only to spell their name. It made you nervous at the thought of seeing them and, every once in a while, it shoots a pang of pain in your direction.

But, it gives you a bliss that couldn't be bought, a reward for enduring the headaches. It gives you a taste of heaven that washed away the tortures of hell. It gives you a brightness, something to look forward to when you open your eyes tomorrow, the day after that and the day after that - the troubles of today, long forgotten.

**_He wouldn't wish it on anyone._ **

  
  



End file.
